


The 'J' Word

by QueenEchidna



Series: The Tales of a Few Petrol-Heads [2]
Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Established Relationship, Fluff, Jealousy, M/M, One-Sided Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 08:17:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenEchidna/pseuds/QueenEchidna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[I'm bad with summaries]<br/>Richard is most assuredly <i>not</i> jealous of how close The Stig seems to be to James.<br/>Written for the prompt: Jealousy<br/><i>Hinted or Implied Stig/James<br/>Somewhat one-sided Hammond/James</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The 'J' Word

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fanfiction about real, living people and I am taking creative license to write **completely fictional** stories about them, for no other reason that to have a laugh doing so.

Richard had not taken his eyes away from the racer since said racer decided to never take his eyes (visor?) off of James, who sat across the room, completely naïve to the silent fiasco just a couple meters away. James was talking enthusiastically to Andy, who seemed equally enthralled with the topic at hand, making the occasional hand gesture which seemed to elicit an amused jeer from his conversational partner. 

The Stig, though occasionally distracted by someone asking him a question that he would inevitably not answer, kept his gaze on the same general area where the infamous Captain Slow sat. It began to unnerve Hammond, in a way he did not completely understand, nor in a way that he expressively _wanted_ to understand, because it made an awkward feeling rise in his stomach that he could not push down. 

_Why is he staring at him?_ He wondered, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa, and trying not to stare. _C’mon James tell ‘im off or something you ignorant spaff. There’s no way you haven’t noticed him…_ In the back of his mind he vaguely remembered one of his daughter’s friends talking about how he saw his _’girlfriend’_ with another boy on the playground. At the time, Richard had merely chuckled because he could not believe they were worried about that kind of stuff and they were barely 3rd graders, though in hind-sight, he began to connect his current state with the very same 3rd grader who was sitting at his kitchen island a few weeks ago, complaining jealously about that other grade student.

He realized the implications of the comparison moments later and had to take a hard swig of his beer, wiping the stray droplets of the alcohol that rolled over the corners of his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Jealous?” He murmured to himself, taking two panorama looks around his area to make sure no one had heard him. The closest person was the DJ who had sound-blocking headphones practically plastered to her ears; good, so no one heard him. 

Richard straightened the color of his button-up and cleared his throat, trying not to look as confused as he felt. _I am not jealous. I just am not. Why would I be…_ Again he cast his gaze at their tame racing driver and then at James, still carelessly having a laugh with Andy, and now Jeremy, who seemed to have walked over at some point whilst Hammond was debating whether to be concerned or confused. 

All of his confusion aside, Richard adored times like this; another series finished, cast party barely halfway over, kind words, alcohol, and jokes moving between friends and acquaintances as if they all did not have work to be doing. And even though that same awkward feeling rose in his stomach, Hammond found himself happiest when his co-presenters had their uniquely brilliant grins showing; when they were happy, and not arguing over where to put a Toyota on the cool wall, or the merits of a _Bentley_.

Although, he chuckled, he quite enjoyed times like _that_ as well. 

He was almost content to leave well-enough alone after a few uneventful minutes; so what if the Stig was staring, he does do quite a lot of that, at everyone - and it’s rather intimidating – so perhaps he should be pitying James rather than giving his jealousy the time of day.

 _No._ Hammond quickly corrected his inner monologue, _Not jealous._

The Stig rose, turned almost completely around and headed towards the kitchen; coolly, silently, like always. Richard, with his head angled down to avoid being blunt, kept an eye on the racer until he was behind the corner of the doorway, and then let out the breath he was holding; one he didn’t quite realize he was holding until the sudden lack of air became apparent. 

“Hey Hamster,” James greeted pleasantly, startling Richard. James raised his eyebrows confusedly, “Sorry mate, didn’t mean to startle you.” He took a seat on the sofa next to his friend, giving him enough room to not be overly crowding. 

“No, no it’s quite alright, just spacing out I ‘spose.” Hammond rebutted quickly, slapping a friendly hand on James’ shoulder and pulling it away. “Had a riveting conversation with Wilman did you?” He asked.

It took a moment but May nodded, “Oh yeah,” He smiled, “He sure does enjoy a few good jokes on my part. Making fun of my Ferrari, peh.” He murmured the last part and crossed his arms.

At this, Richard laughed, “Don’t we all?” He took a quick sip of beer, “But don’t think too much of it James, your Ferrari isn’t _nearly_ as awful as your Bentley.” Again he laughed when his co-presenter mock punched his arm and let out a quiet chuckle himself. 

“You arse,” James grinned and sat back against the head of the sofa, crossing his legs one over the other and letting his laughter trail off. 

The following silence was far from awkward, both of them tended to sit in silence together between shooting on any given day, both of them reading Automobile magazines, perhaps occasionally pointing out something about the new Porsche line; pleasant silence that they both were happy to be content in. This lack of conversation was much like that, and though the thought was still there that Hammond just might be… _the ‘J’ word_ , he chose to ignore it and appreciate James’ company.

That is until a white-clad arm came down to rest around James’ shoulder, seeming to surprise James but not especially so. The Stig came into view, leaning over the couch to hand May a steaming mug of, what was probably, tea. “Thanks mate, I owe you one.” He said with a smile. Stig nodded coolly and let his hand slip languidly from James’ shoulder before he stepped away.

Dumbstruck, Richard visually gawked, despite every instinct telling him not to; The Stig _never_ did favors, not during filming, not in private (he assumed), not for him or Jeremy, just… _never_. 

James clutched the mug and was content to sip carefully, minding the steaming liquid, and ignorant to his friend’s astonished glare. “Did he…?” Hammond stammered, gesturing to the doorway through which the Stig had disappeared.

“Hm?” May turned just enough to eye his co-host, now aware of the befuddled amazement. “Oh, right,” He began, lowering the cup from his lips, “He owed me a favor, I decided to use my favor to remedy my headache.” James grinned.

“But you just said he owed _you_ one. Is this like some ring of favors?” Hammond recognized that he had cornered James, and some part of him was glad he did, he could quell his inquiries; however that seems like a poor-move on his part. “Ah, never mind it, Slow,” He backed away metaphorically speaking, casually drinking from his bottle of beer; which was worryingly running low on Jack Daniels. 

James looked at his lap quietly before speaking again, hesitation melded into his tone, “No, not exactly,” He didn’t know what to say or how to explain whatever he was trying to get across. “I guess you could say, I’ve just been…getting to know Stig more. Trying not to be so estranged y’know?” He chuckled nervously, tapping his fingers on the sides of his mug. 

That same feeling bubbled in Hammond’s gut, and he discretely moved his hand over the area to make sure he was not just hungry: no of course not. He nodded, because he could not quite voice a response because why was this even bothering him? It should not bother him.

“I’ll take your silence as confusion, sorry mate,” The tone of his friend’s voice not only made him feel infantile, but simultaneously awful, and he tried to remedy his behavior by reaching out and placing a tentative hand on James’ knee.

“No – I mean – well not used to Stig being…”

“Kind?” 

Hammond cocked his head sheepishly and nodded.

“Yeah,” James chuckled, sipping again from his mug, “It’s still a foreign concept to me as well.” He admitted with an adoring smile, starring calmly at his tea.

The feeling in his midsection rose into his chest and up his throat, making him cough a bit, his mind jumping to strange conclusions he was not even going to give the time of day. One involved James having some terribly irresistible blackmail on the tame racing driver, another less believable one involved the Stig suddenly deciding to be more hospitable but only towards James. _Bugger all…_ Hammond inwardly cursed.

 _They’re shagging each other, I bloody knew it!_ He thought jealously, immediately giving himself a mental kick in the pants and averting his eyes. He would literally kick himself but he was not completely sure he was limber enough for such an endeavor, and he would look like an absolute moron if he even tried. But the desire to was still there, and he really wished he could do _something_ to quell his annoying emotions; emotions that he still refused to acknowledge as _jealousy_.

“He’s not bad you know,” May began, nudging Richard’s arm, “The Stig I mean. He’s a good bloke: pleasant.” He smiled again, influencing the grin that blossomed onto the younger man’s features.

Richard nodded, “I believe you,” he nodded, realizing his hand was still on the other’s knee and pulling it back quickly. “Strange as it is,” He chuckled, “but you tend to be right about most things, so I see no reason to deny your knowledge now.” He had not intended for the admittance to sound so complementally and he turned to his beer for solace. A final drink of his Jack Daniels left his brown-tinted beer bottle empty, and he set it down on the side table with an empty _klink_.

It seemed May caught the compliment and he smiled the same sheepish smile he tended to wear when he read fan e-mails about _’How adorable you are.’_ or _’How admirable it is to hear you talk so passionately about the cars you like.’_ ; e-mails Richard consistently agreed with. “Well, that’s refreshing to hear. Perhaps it would not be completely daft to get to know him yourself.” He hinted, seeming to look around for the Stig.

The thought scared Richard, but if it made James happy…

“Hey Slow!” Jeremy’s overbearing tone boomed through their calm conversation and diverted their attention.

“Clarkson.” James replied calmly, trying not to grin cheekily as their considerably more inebriated friend padded over to them with two unopened ales for them; probably a seasonal Ruby Ale judging by the red labels, which he insisted were far superior to those _’Crummy American beers’_ Hammond preferred. 

Jeremy forced one of the bottles into Richard’s hands, and set the one for James down on the table in front of them. “What are you losers doing sittin’ on the bloody sofa like two old elderly farts? Reminiscing on the days of your youth?” He chortled at his own comment.

“There would be more reminiscing would it not be so funny to watch you make of fool of yourself every day.” Hammond said, and grinned wide when James chuckled at the comeback. _Dammit Jeremy-_ He couldn’t help but think angrily. _We were talking, you bloody orangutan._ He finished the thought and then thoroughly admitted that he was probably the most easily jealous person he’s ever known: finally.

The oldest of the three shrugged off the poke at his goofy nature and crammed himself onto the couch on the other side of James, flinging an arm over his shoulder, throwing back a long swig of his own ale. “Anyway, what were you talking about?” He inquired rather nosily. 

“Nothing really, I mean-“

“Actually,” Hammond quickly interjected, “We were _just_ talking about how completely awful you are at driving _Aston Martins_.” He was pleased at the immediate reaction he got out of Jezza when he yanked the bottle away from his lips.

“ _What_ are you talking about? I am the _absolute_ best at driving _anything_ , especially Astons! I was driving them before you were born, Hamster!” Jeremy screeched.

“Oh, so you were driving when you were 10, good to know.” Richard replied sarcastically. James laughed softly.

Temper kicking in, Jeremy turned more towards his youngest co-host to argue, “How the bloody hell do you know what I did or didn’t do when I was-“ Mid-sentence, though, he was interrupted when his arm was grabbed and jerked away from James’ shoulders quite roughly. All three Top Gear presenters looked over to see The Stig storming around the couch, looking especially perturbed. Jeremy seemed ready to voice a question but did not get a chance when the racer grabbed May’s arm and yanked him to his feet; James opened his mouth to protest but when The Stig flicked his gaze towards him it seemed to silence any protests he had.

“What the hell is wrong with you Stiggy?” Jeremy wondered aloud, only half-caring as he drunk lazily from his bottle.

Hammond, protective senses firing off like hyperactive pistons at the sight of James being hauled away, began to stand, ready to aggress if need be. But James turned his head and held up his free hand, urging him to calm down with a calm smile despite the rough behavior; respecting his friend, Hammond remained in his seat, begrudgingly watching The Stig usher May into the kitchen. He would have to remember to confront on or the other, or preferably both, about it later; that entire ordeal was aggravatingly uncool. 

“That’s pretty funny,” Jeremy chuckled, partially muffled by the bottle practically glued to his mouth. Richard looked at him crookedly, one eyebrow quirked. Clarkson grinned drunkenly and continued, “I never pegged Stig as the jealous type.” And Richard felt himself sink into the sofa.

**Author's Note:**

> I just think jealousy is one of the most entertaining prompts to use, this was pretty fun to play around with. I do hope you enjoyed ^-^


End file.
